Only Killers and Thieves(41)

“Was she raped?”

Tommy reeled like he’d been hit. Billy stared horrified at Noone.

Sullivan said, “Christ, Edmund, that’s their mother. Both were dead when they got there—how in hell would they know that?”

“Well, how was she lying? What did they see?”

He alternated between Billy and Tommy like he’d just inquired as to the time.

“She was on the floor,” Billy said finally. “Her skirts were down.”

“A pity. What about the young girl?”

Sullivan threw up his hands. “Hellfire!”

“It would help if she had been. One or preferably both. They usually are. Adds to the public outrage, you see. Assists with your cause.”

“No,” Billy said firmly. “Neither.”

Noone took another drink. “Well, that might need to change. In the final account, you understand. And what about the father? How was he found?”

“Sitting on the verandah,” Billy said. “Had his carbine with him.”

“Meaning he fought them. Must have hit at least one, I assume?”

Billy glanced doubtfully at Sullivan. Sullivan said, “Ambushed, I reckon.”

“Strange for a man to be ambushed when he was already armed.”

“He was shot in the yard,” Tommy blurted. “There were drag marks going up.”

Noone arched an eyebrow. “Well, well. The boy has a good eye.”

“It doesn’t matter who was where or how any of them was found,” Sullivan said. “What matters is who killed them. Billy—tell him about Joseph and them others you saw.”

“Joseph was our blackboy. He took off a few weeks back. Him and Daddy argued over those two others you put in that red gum by the creek.”

“He was Kurrong,” Sullivan added. “From the same mob.”

“He had a revolver with him, same one we found by the well, empty, all five shots used. The dogs was run through with spears, I reckon, and Ma and Daddy had their heads stoved after, clubs it looked like, them tomahawks they have, the wooden thing with the blade.”

Billy fell silent. It had left him in a burst. He waited stiffly in his chair.

“But not the girl?” Noone asked. “She’s still living, John said?”

“They must have got spooked by the boys coming back,” Sullivan suggested. “A big group ran out the house, didn’t they, Billy? Took off into the bush?”

Billy nodded furiously. Tommy could only stare.

“How many?” Noone asked. “How many blacks in all?”

“Maybe a dozen,” Billy told him. “More than we could have fired on anyway. We only had our muzzle-loaders. We’d have been overrun.”

Noone turned his head slowly toward Tommy. “All this sound right to you?”

He could feel the others glaring. It was all he could do to nod.

“Strange, then, that I found no tracks,” Noone said. “Since there were so many.”

“You’ve been down the house?” Sullivan asked him.

“Of course. Saw the bloodstains and plenty boot marks, but no native tracks.”

“Well, we buried the pair of them yesterday,” Sullivan said. He took a long drink and winced. “Had men with us for digging and carrying, we’ll have trampled over the tracks, I reckon. Plus, don’t forget this Joseph boy was shod. Them with him might have been the boot-wearing kind n’all.”

“Of course,” Noone said equably. “Anything amiss inside the house?”

“Amiss?” Sullivan said. “Apart from them all being shot up?”

Noone looked at Billy. “Anything taken? Disturbed?”

“No. Just them three.”

“And this Joseph—you’re sure it was him? You saw him?”

“Yessir. Plus there was the revolver, like I said.”

“Way I see it,” Sullivan interrupted, “is Joseph took offense to them two in the tree, went back and told his mob, they set about the McBrides instead of coming here, since he knows the family and how little they were armed. Snuck up on them quietly. Ned stood no chance, the poor bastard. Just him and the missus and the girl.”

Noone considered him steadily. Raised his glass, sipped his drink.

“Surely now this’ll persuade you?” Sullivan asked him. “On top of everything I’ve already told you, here these Kurrong have murdered a whole family just about—what more evidence do you need?”

“I saw no evidence, John. I’d be relying on the word of two boys.”

“They’ll swear to it—won’t you?”

Billy nodded eagerly. Tommy kept his head down.

“And remember you’ll be rewarded,” Sullivan added. “Handsomely, since I’d consider it a personal favor, and you already know what those are worth. We ride out, come up with them, you make yourself a rich man. Likely get a promotion after—they’ll think you a hero when word gets around.”

“The terms can be discussed privately. Now is not the time.”

“But you’ll do it? We’re asking for protection here. Isn’t that what the Native Police is bloody for? I can’t do this on my own.”

Noone took a long breath, exhaled.